


Unwilling Heir

by JessKo



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Electrocution, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kallus is Secretly a Palpatine, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, Seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24069064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessKo/pseuds/JessKo
Summary: Alexsandr Kallus thought that for once, things might actually be going his way. He had just married the man of his dreams, secured a small vacation to celebrate, and was fighting for a cause he truly believed in.Unfortunately, the Emperor has other plans for the duo, and everything changes when Alexsandr’s true lineage is revealed... He is the biological heir to the Imperial throne.A little twist on the Kalluzeb Appreciation Week Day 8 Prompt: Royalty Zeb
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65
Collections: Kalluzeb appreciation week 2020.





	1. The Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HixyStix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/gifts).



> A massive thanks to the fearless HixyStix for all the incredibly inspiring stories this week, and for the Beta on Chapter 1 before the fluffy parts were drafted out!

Their wedding had been the happiest day of Alexsandr Kallus’ life. It had been a small ceremony, performed on the Ghost by Chava to the roaring acclaim of his new family and of his closest friends. Zeb was absolutely glowing in long green robes with golden piping, traditional dress wear of the High Honor Guard scraped together over the course of several weeks, and Alex had donned pure white at the suggestion of Sabine. The ceremony was simple and short but could not have gone better, with dancing and feasting and good company, something to get the massive losses at the Battle of Hoth off of everyone’s minds. And for this celebration, Hera had lent them the Phantom II to take on their honeymoon. 

After much research, the couple had decided on visiting Bacrana, a planet with a low key resort managed by an old friend, Vizago. It was probably some kind of front, but the place had quickly become infamous among the now ex-rebels as a wonderfully relaxing spot. The planet may have been under Imperial control, but a blind eye was turned to the resort sector and they intended on taking advantage of this. 

“If anything happens, call us and we’ll be back in a blink.” Zeb said as he hauled his bag into the Phantom II. 

“We will. But right now the Alliance is just laying low and recuperating our resources here on M05. If there was ever a time to get away for a break, this is it, and you both deserve it.” Hera replied with a gentle smile, patting Zeb on the shoulder. “Have fun, boys.” 

“Ready, love?” Alex asked, peeking his head out of the cockpit. “Hyperspace coordinates are locked in.” 

After a final nod to Hera, Zeb slipped into the copilot’s seat after pecking his now husband on the cheek. “Absolutely.” 

The doors sealed behind them, Alex steered the Phantom II away from the Ghost and soon the vessel was engulfed in the blue lines of hyperspace. “Going to be a long jump...” Alex mused, giving Zeb a not-too-innocent side eye. Before the man knew it, large hands were clamped around his midsection and he found himself also sitting in the copilot’s seat, legs open to straddle his lover. 

“Yeah, real long.” Zeb purred, nuzzling his furred cheek against Alex’s beard who knew the Lasat loved the scratch of his coarse blonde hairs on his face. “How are we gonna pass time?” 

“I think you have some ideas.” Alex responded, nipping at a velveteen purple ear, knowing they were sensitive and that it would drive Zeb mad. Feeling thick muscles tense beneath him, Alex bit down harder, eliciting a needy groan from the Lasat. 

“Didn’t get enough last night?” Zeb teased, hands sliding down along Alex’s backside to squeeze his ass, still a bit sore from their ‘consummation’ of their marriage, more of a human tradition but one Zeb had been more than happy to indulge in. It certainly was not their first time, but the first time married was special after all. 

“Never.” Alex assured him, whispering into the ear he’d just quit biting, opting to instead steal a kiss, slipping tongue between fangs. Zeb’s breath was hot and coming in fast pants. 

Breaking the kiss, Zeb exhaled deeply, pupils blown wide in lust. “Bedroom. Now.” 

Alex clicked his tongue. “Don’t you know? No bunks on the Phantom.” 

“Forgot.” Zeb grumbled, flipping a switch to deactivate the console before him. “Don’t matter.” Turning Alex around, he pressed the man up against the angled dashboard. “Just need you.” 

“Surprise, Zeb.” Alex said in a sing-song voice as he worked open his belt. “You’ve got me!” 

“Yeah I do, real close.” 

Alex still being open and willing from their previous fuck, he allowed Zeb to set a merciless pace right from the start, a stark contrast to the loving build up the night before, bringing both of them to orgasm in record time. A proper mess was made of half of the cockpit as they wound down. 

Leaning back into his lover’s embrace, thick arms holding him securely, Alex let out a satisfied sigh. “If this is how life is going to be from now on, I must be the luckiest man alive.” 

“Alex, I think you mean that I’m the luckiest to have you.” Zeb purred. 

Alex craned his neck to look into large green eyes. “No, Garazeb, I mean it. Since the moment we met you’ve been changing my life for the better, and I’d not trade it for anything in the Galaxy.” 

“Not even to rule it all?” Zeb joked. 

Alex nestled in closer. “Nope. Nothing could ever compare to this.” 

Upon arrival to Bacrana, they managed to make themselves look mostly presentable and were greeted by a protocol droid in the lobby of the resort. “Hello, guests of Vizago! Your room is ready if you will just follow me. You may place your items on this repulsor lift.” The droid, a green and white RA-7 model, gestured to a levitating platform manned by a small astromech. 

“Wish AP-5 was this accommodating.” Zeb chuckled as he placed his large bag on the platform, Alex following suit with a laugh. 

“Yeah. Could you imagine Chopper pushing around luggage?” 

Zeb quipped back, “He’d probably burn the bags before he toted them around!” 

“This way, gentlemen.” The droid reminded them, waving them over to the turbolift. 

“Right. After you.” Zeb gestured grandly for Alex to walk before him with a wink. 

“Certainly.” 

Finally arriving at their room, Alex and Zeb found themselves in the penthouse suite, which they certainly had not reserved. “Vizago sends his regards and hopes you will find the accommodations to your standards.” 

“Yeah, I think this will do fine.” Zeb mused, taking in the large suite. The droid silently left, leaving them at the peak of a cylindrical tower, large windows taking up all external walls which revealed vistas of rolling meadows and placid lakes. 

Watching the sunset over a shared meal and glasses of wine, Alex sunk into the plush couch which Zeb had moved over to face the window. Leaning his head against Zeb’s core, his arm thrown over the human’s shoulders, Alex exclaimed, “This is perfect.” 

“Yeah, gonna miss it when we go back.” Zeb didn’t mention that they were only going to be here for two days. It was a pitifully short vacation, but both men knew they were needed in the Rebellion, regardless of what Hera said, and that this was an incredibly vain luxury to be indulging in during a war. It had been a long argument, one day for the wedding was already too much to ask for in their opinion, but the others had been persistent and here they were. Both men would openly admit that, in this moment, they were glad to have been persuaded into taking this trip. 

Then, they went to bed, curled into one another into one shape. Both snored so loud neither heard the doors to their rooms slide open, permitting three red-robed figures into the suite. 

Armed with force pikes, the Imperial Royal Guard stormed the rooms, identifying their target and disarming any other life forms with a quick jab of their weapon. 

The only thing that gave Alexsandr hope as he was hauled away was Zeb’s body convulsing on the floor, tangled in the sheets and completely vulnerable but moving. They were both still alive at least, but that was the only thing going for them. 

“What do you want?” Alexsandr screamed, his voice raw with pain and fear, but the masked figures said nothing, binding his arms and dragging him into the turbolift. 

Trying the move that had allowed him to break free from the Empire, Alexsandr silently broke free of the binders and lashed out at the guards, managing to land an elbow or knee to each one just as the doors opened and he ran for it, only to be frozen in place. The world took on a blue hue as Alexsandr was immobilized in space. In his panic he had forgotten about the force pikes, and now he had sealed his fate. 

* * *

Unsurprisingly to Alexsandr, he found himself forced to kneel before Emperor Palpatine, but he quickly realized he was not in the Imperial Palace on Coruscant. The windows behind the Emperor’s dais revealed them to be on a ship or some sort of space station. Alex took note of this, but the Emperor soon commanded his attention, his face forcibly made to look upon a pale, wrinkled face partially hidden in shadows beneath a hood. 

“You wonder why I have brought you here,” The Emperor boomed, his voice filling the large room around them. 

Alexsandr had not expected to be brought before the Emperor, that was true, but he knew damn well why he was taken. He was going to be executed for treason. Made an example of. “To be killed,” he spat. The intense zap of a force pike stunned him as it tapped his tailbone, the vibrations traveling up his spine to rattle his skull. 

Palpatine merely cackled. “I have been searching for a rightful successor to the Empire. I have seen a vision of my heir on the Sith throne. I had thought my heir would be my apprentice, or his son, but recently my vision has had more… Clarity.” 

The Emperor paused, and Alexsandr just stared ahead in confusion, held down by a guard on either side of him. 

“Tell me, Alexsandr Kallus, do you have any recollection of your father?” 

The Emperor sneered, revealing yellowed teeth between peeling lips. Alexsandr remained silent, his lesson learned from his prior outburst. 

“Your mother was a senator’s aide in the time of the Republic I believe. An aide I had met with many times… My vision has shown me that my rightful heir is born of the flesh, of my own lineage. I had not known of your true parentage until your signature in the force had been so strong, suddenly a beacon in the darkness starting… Just yesterday.” 

Alexsandr’s blood ran cold. His and Zeb’s wedding. It had been an extremely emotional day for him, so happy and wonderful, yet the culmination of those positive emotions had been this… Alerting the Emperor to something he’d not even known himself. Could he really be… 

“Rise, Alexsandr Palpatine, and take your place at my side.” 

Without thinking, Alexsandr shouted. “Never!” and was only met with another sharp tap of a force pike, this time to his shoulder, sending him reeling, falling flat on his back. 

“In time, you will learn your place,” the Emperor growled, his voice threatening more pain to come. “Take my son to his quarters.” 

* * *

Sabine was the first to notice the Phantom II’s sudden return. “What are those guys doing back so early?” she asked Hera, who was elbow deep into repairs on the Ghost. 

“I swear if Vizago swindled them…” Hera muttered, Chopper agreeing with a clack of his pincers. 

The Ghost shuddered as the Phandom roughly landed, prompting Hera to jump out of the maintenance panel. “Hey! Don’t they know I’ve already got enough on my plate to fix?” 

Sabine rolled her eyes. “Probably were banging on the controls.” 

Hera slapped the Mandalorian on her shoulder armor. “Shush.” 

Zeb barreled into the space howling, looking like a right disaster while still in nothing but his sleep pants, never even bothering to change. “Alex was taken!” His eyes were haunted, and there was a nasty looking red burn on his side, as if someone had plugged a power cord into his torso. 

“Whoa there, what happened?” Sabine asked calmly. 

“They came in the middle of the night and just took him!” 

“Who took him?” Hera pressed, hands on her hips. 

“I… I don’t know! They knocked me out before I could see. Has to be the Empire though, right?” 

“That would seem to be the most likely suspect.” Hera agreed. 

Zeb began to pace the Ghost’s main hall, head in his hands. “We have to find him.” 

“Yeah, we will.” Sabine assured the Lasat, patting him every time he passed the Mandalorian, but she was not so sure that they even could. The Empire was everywhere, and there was a very good chance that Alex had already been executed. 

“Just have to track him down…” Zeb muttered. 

“I’ll go call Vizago, make sure he’s not a mole.” Hera said, stalking to the long range comm equipment. 

“We could also look into ISB strongholds. Those guys are probably who want him the most,” Sabine offered. The pair followed Hera to the comm station, crowding the small wall panel. 

Not long later a very frustrated image of Vizago popped up on their holoprojector. “Hello, this is a terrible time.” 

“Yeah, well, we have some questions.” Zeb snarled, lips curling to reveal long fangs and his ears pulled back.

Vizago hardly flinched. “If you are worried it was me, I leaked nothing. Your reservation is in the books as the Figg family. Now, I have Imps breathing down my neck over this whole incident, wanting to know if I knew just what I was harboring. Which, of course not, I knew no such thing, and I know nothing more about this issue. Goodbye.” 

Before Zeb could shout some more, the call ended. He punched the wall above the comms, denting a storage panel cover. “Sorry,” he grunted to Hera before storming off again. 

“Hey! At least we know it was the Empire!” Sabine called after him. Zeb’s ears only flattened more against his head. 

“Let him go,” Hera said softly. “It’s a lot to process.” 

Sabine’s face suddenly paled and she ran off after her brother. “Wait! Zeb!” She was too late and the Lasat had already keyed open the doors to his quarters, the room he’d shared with Alex. Staring back at him was a whole-wall mural of him and his beloved, the smaller human in white laid out in Zeb’s arms. It was a painting of their wedding, how Zeb had scooped Alex up and carried him down the hall after the ceremony. Both faces beamed down at him, little hearts painted between their heads. The bottom half was unfinished, Sabine probably not planning on him being home just yet. It still made him fall to his knees and cry. 

The sorrowful, booming sobs coming from Zeb’s quarters caused Sabine to hesitate in the doorway. Zeb was collapsed into a ball, scratching at his head as he bawled into his palms. 

“I can cover it for you, or just paint it over…” Sabine offered, barely above a whisper. Zeb’s ears perked towards the sound and he grunted, shaking his head. 

Regaining some composure he sat up, wet fur darker on his cheeks and around his eyes. “No, finish it. Please.” Sitting back, he made room for the woman, gesturing to the wall. “I want to see it.” 

“Going to take a while I hope you know.” Sabine retorted, but she still pulled her spray paint gun from her belt and got to work, adding the gold embellishments from Zeb’s robe. 

“We’ll have time.” Zeb grunted before getting up and excusing himself to the refresher, wanting to wash up. 

Later that evening, after a somber shared meal, everyone went their separate ways to their quarters. Zeb tried to get comfortable on his cot, but the thing still smelled like them, like the night after their wedding, like Alex. Unable to stand it, he found himself gently knocking on Hera’s door, a morbidly mirror image to Hera the night Kanan died, a parallel that Zeb tried to not focus on. And much like that night, the duo found themselves laying beside each other on a large spread of cushions and blankets on the floor, some random holodrama projected onto the ceiling above them. 

“It’s going to be hard, but Alex is a survivor, and we will get him back.” Hera said during a quiet part of the film. 

“I know.” Zeb replied, squeezing the small hand that found its way into his own. 

The rest of the night the pair just laid there, silently supporting each other through the hardest hours of the night. The back of Zeb’s mind nagged him; he should still be back on Bacrana, curled up to his husband without a care in the world for one last time before returning to the war their relationship was forged within. 

At one point, Zeb did not even realize he’d started crying again until Hera mentioned it. “Yeah, sorry…” Zeb mumbled. 

“Don’t apologize. I miss him too, can’t imagine what you feel.” Hera admitted. 

Zeb sighed, wiping at his eyes with clammy hands. “Actually, I think you know exactly what I’m feeling, or at least the worst parts.” 

“Maybe. Kanan and I were close, but we never really tied the knot like you two. Never truly reached that point where we were ready to devote ourselves like that. What we had worked for us, sure, but I’m not sure it's even comparable.” 

Turning his head, Zeb realized he was not the only one shedding tears. 

“Come here, big guy.” Hera opened her arms and Zeb wrapped an arm under her back, pulling her into a full bodied embrace. Zeb muttered something into Hera’ shoulder, and the woman inquired as to what she missed. 

“Ah, it’s nothing…” He started to say, but thought better of it and decided to come clean as Hera rubbed small circles into his back. “Well, just thinking about Saf… You know she…” 

“You loved her too.” Hera replied. 

“Mm. With her though, I knew she was dead. Saw it happen…” Zeb shuddered as he remembered that day, when Saflynal had pushed him out of the way of an Ion Disruptor blast so he could run to safety. “But now I just feel lost!” 

“It’s almost worse than having an answer, this unknown.” Hera agreed. 

“Yeah.” They fell back into silence, closer together for a while. Then, Hera’s chrono chirped, indicating the start of a new morning. 

“Want me to put on a pot of caf?” Hera offered, somehow only now sounding exhausted. 

Zeb nodded, curling up tight around a pillow with a grunt. Hera patted his shoulder. “You got it,” and disappeared out of her quarters as she went to the galley. 

Not wanting to be alone, and also not wanting to move, Zeb lay there shivering despite not being cold. Hera kept her quarters warmer than most of the ship, but Zeb still pulled a blanket around his body. It was surreal as the fact Alex was gone sunk in, becoming more real every second his husband did not walk through the door, flashing the earnest smile he reserved only for Zeb. 

When the door did eventually whoosh open, despite knowing his hopes would be dashed, Zeb’s ears perked up anyways when he looked over, only to see Hera with two steaming mugs in her hands. “Caf’s ready. Figured I’d just bring it to you.”

She knelt down beside Zeb, setting her own mug down to gently nudge him to a sitting position before handing over his own drink. Zeb smiled back thankfully, taking a long sip of the brew. Hera might not be often praised for her culinary skills, or rather lack of, but she knew how to make a strong cup of caf and for that Zeb was appreciative, feeling the beverage heat his core pleasantly. 

“Today we’re booked for a short supply run to Lianna, quick back and forth with the pick up already arranged. If you want to just lay low I, well, it might be better for you to take it easy for a while.” 

Zeb muttered into his drink about who would man the turret, certainly not Chopper. 

“Since we were not expecting you back,” Hera cringed as soon as those words left her lips, “Sabine arranged for an extra hand on deck who I’ve not called off yet.” 

Looking up over the lip of the mug, Zeb raised an eyebrow that asked just who that hand was. 

Hera chuckled. “It’s Wedge, if you must know, so someone we can trust.” 

Satisfied, Zeb nodded. “I’ll be… Here, I guess. Don’t like feelin’ useless.” 

“I know. And you’re not. This time will help you heal to prepare for what comes next.” Hera assured Zeb, and his expression immediately softened. 

“You’re right. Thanks.” 

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it, and don’t worry, if something goes wrong I’ll shout for you.” 

Zeb was not sure if he was glad or frustrated that the mission went off without a hitch, the first hyperspace jump and pick up taking up a little more than 5 standard hours that he spent stewing, his mind stuck in a constant loop of what-ifs. 

What if Alex was dead?

What if he was alive? 

What if he was suffering?

His thoughts concocting all sorts of worse case scenarios, Zeb paced the small quarters, occasionally kicking cushions out of the way before tossing them all onto Hera’s bed. Nor much later he put them back on the floor to flop down on, not wanting to make an indentation in the cot. 

Not sure what else to do, Zeb eventually wandered to the refresher where he nearly ran Wedge over on his way inside. The much smaller pilot yelped, jumping out of the way and regaining his balance. “Didn’t realize you were on board!” 

“Yeah, sorry for scaring ya.” Zeb apologized, positioning himself to usher Wedge out of the space so he could take care of business. 

“It’s fine, I was finishing.” Wedge rambled, not realizing he was lingering. Zeb nodded his chin towards the door, but the pilot still did not get the memo. “You working on repairs below deck or something? I can help now that we’re out of the woods.” 

“No thanks.” Zeb grumbled, his composure crumbling at the unanticipated social interaction. Not so subtly he turned Wedge towards the exit with a large hand on his shoulder. Taking the hint, Wedge left with a jumbled apology and farewell. 

With a long breath, Zeb looked up into the mirror. He really looked like shit. Figuring that was one problem he could handle, he fired up the sonic and cleaned off, brushing his fur idly as time passed. With the sonic shower, he could take as long as he wanted without worrying about water use, or his musk strengthening with moisture. He’d only recently started taking actually wet showers again, Alex not caring about the smell at all… 

Somehow, he realized, he was getting wet. He was crying again. Zeb grunted, thinking he really needed to get over this. The mission, and his alone time, was nearing its end as they were heading back to base, and he’d need to be put together to face everyone planetside upon arrival. 

They were all going to have to learn at some point about what happened, so Zeb figured sooner would be better than later, if only for the fact it was more eyes looking for Alex. And the more people searching meant the sooner his beloved would be back home. 

Zeb liked to think that he was a generally positive person, so he centered himself on that thought as he emerged from the sonic, ready to face the galaxy. 

* * *

Kallus stood still in the center of the rooms that would become his new home. A small living space with computer console, private refresher, and bedroom. There were windows, at least, offering a view out into a starry void. Somehow, that only made Kallus feel more alone than if he were locked into a cell. This mockery of a home. Somewhere someone could feel comfortable. He’d always prefered internal bunks for their practicality and safety, the exterior rooms of a ship the first thing to experience a breach during an attack, spacing their unfortunate inhabitants. 

The true mockery came, however, in the clothing left out for him. At first, Kallus tossed the garment into the storage crate beside the bed, not wanting to look at the damned thing. But, as the hours passed and boredom took over, the console proving to be disconnected from the holonet and only having access to propaganda files, Kallus revisited the attire. 

A black sleeveless catsuit with a neck high enough to cover his entire face if he so desired, with thin silver chains around the neck and matching clasps at the shoulders for a long cape in the same obsidian color. The fabric seemed to absorb the light, refusing to reflect back anything but darkness. 

As soon as he donned the ensemble Kallus hated it. The cape pulled on the suit in such a way that it pinched and hiked the fabric up between his legs. The layered chains around his neck, each a bit longer than the last, tangled every time he moved. And the neck of the suit was absolutely ridiculous, settling just over his nose to cover his mouth like some sort of assasin. The boots and gloves left for him were at least half decent, standard issue and eerily familiar, harkening back to his days working for the ISB. 

Shoving that thought from his mind, Kallus wandered over to the refresher to look at himself in the mirror. The first thing that came to him was that Zeb would probably laugh his ass off at seeing him like this. That lifted Kallus’ spirits for a second, imagining Zeb’s booming roar of a laugh, but then it came back to him. Zeb wasn’t here, and probably would never be able to reach him stuck under the Emperor's thumb as he was. Even if Zeb could find him, there would be no way he could break him out of this mess. Kallus just hoped he had been able to get to safety, back to Hera and Sabine and the Rebellion. The three guards who had come for Kallus had left him there alive, so that was something to cling to at the least. 

Then, he heard the door open. Someone was here. Turning around, Kallus entered the living space to see two of the Royal Guards had entered the quarters. Wordlessly, one grabbed onto each of his biceps and pulled him out into the hall. 

Somehow, being carried around dressed like this was worse than his sleeping clothes of an ill fitting shirt advertising a long-past pod race and plaid shorts. 

When he was returned to the quarters Kallus was too far gone to even recognize that his old clothes had been confiscated. He instead collapsed down onto the first soft surface he encountered, durasteel grey carpet set in the center of the living space. 

As Kallus lay splayed out on the floor, his limbs twitched and spasmed, electricity still coursing through his body. 


	2. The Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus prompt fill of "Force Sensitive Kallus" here, well, kind of!

_ Three Months Later _

Every day was still a challenge, but Zeb had adjusted back to life in the Rebellion. The cause took up most of his waking hours, which was a blessing for the still-hurting Lasat. The pain was still there, but not quite as fresh and raw as it had been those first weeks after his Alex had been mercilessly taken from him. Each and every member of the Rebellion kept an ear out for any sign of the man in their Imperial dealings, but they were still just as lost as ever. ISB information leaks and prisoner records had been scanned, filtered, and searched, but they always came up empty. 

So, Zeb continued to pour himself into his work, hoping for any clue or sign on every mission and in each meeting. After a fairly standard extraction mission to collect some new defectors from a remote stormtrooper garrison on Tatooine of all places, the Ghost crew found themselves greeted by a rather unexpected face. 

“Welcome back everyone.” General Leia Organa greeted them somberly. “We just got something new in that I think you all should come see.” 

Hera and Zeb exchanged a glance, the Twi’lek silently trying to keep the Lasat from getting too excited. Zeb could not help it, the General going out of her way to find them was a first, so related to Alex or not it had to be big. Trying to keep himself from running in circles around the General as her shorter human legs carried her along towards a briefing room, Zeb tried to ground himself but found it useless. Before stepping inside the space, Hera reached out, squeezing Zeb’s hand like she had so many times before. This helped, and Zeb took a deep breath as the doors opened to reveal utter chaos, officers running between stations and shouting over each other to be heard. 

It did not take much on Leia’s part, however, to quell the noise. “We will be watching the recording again,” she announced, stepping up to the central holodisplay. An Imperial propaganda message began, beginning with the usual doom and gloom threats of Emperor Palpatine. Zeb’s hopes were quickly dashed regarding anything pertaining to him. This was likely going to reveal their next target, which was exciting in its own right, but not for the right reasons. 

“And now, my citizens, I have a very special introduction to make… The true heir to the Imperial throne…” 

Now this caught Zeb’s attention, wasn’t Darth Vader the next in line for rulership? The holoimage shot widened, revealing a figure standing beside Emperor Palpatine, perfectly still, and it was certainly not Vader. 

Their entire body was covered in black, as was much of their face, but all Zeb needed to see were the eyes. His eyes. 

“Alex?” The Lasat more whimpered than spoke. Hera pressed herself against his side, stroking his arm as Zeb began to tremble. 

Leia turned around and gave Zeb a sympathetic glance. “So Han’s reaction was right, then…” She said more to herself than anyone else, referring to an earlier conversation she’d had with the man. 

“That can’t be real!” Zeb roared, temper replacing sorrow. Of all the people to turn, Alex would never! He’d seen the truth and turned away from the Empire forever, hadn’t he? Plus, if he really was a double agent, wouldn’t their base already be destroyed. None of it made sense and it was tearing Zeb apart in every way. 

All eyes turned to the raging Lasat as he loosed a ferocious growl of anguish and fury, on the verge of collapsing. Hera tried to steer him away, but Zeb yanked out of her grip, stalking up to the holodisplay. “Play it again.” 

Leia restarted the tape, and this time Zeb paid closer attention, checking every detail for the few seconds that the so-called heir was on screen. A shock of famillair hair, cropped shorter than Alex had even worn it in his ISB days, sat on top of eyes that stared ahead blankly. The only indication the black-clad figure was even alive was the slow rise and fall of his shoulders showing that he was breathing. 

It was Alex. Of all the answers to get regarding his whereabouts, Zeb never imagined this in his wildest dreams. 

“Zeb,” Leia started, pulling Zeb from his daze. “We know where they are. A new planet-killing battle station is being constructed in orbit over Endor.”

“You’re going to destroy it, right? That’s what all this is about.” Zeb grunted. 

“Well, yes, but there’s more,” Leia continued, commanding Zeb’s attention, “Luke plans on getting himself on board the station. He thinks he can turn Vader to the light.” 

“I’m going with him.” Zeb replied without hesitation. 

Leia sighed. “Thought you would say that. Luke’s going to turn himself in to get on board.” 

Now, Hera entered the conversation. “Not if I have anything to say about it. The Phantom II is the sneakiest ship in the fleet, I’ll get them in there.” Zeb knew Hera had a lot of respect for the young General, but also had a lot of her own experience and would not hesitate to share that, even if it meant interrupting plans. That was their specialty, after all. 

“We’re counting on the Ghost for the main battle, actually.” Leia replied wearily. 

Hera looked around her, eventually spotting Hobbie. Probably not her first choice, but she’d trained him alongside Wedge (who was probably already booked leading Rogue Squadron so not an option) and knew he was at least competent behind a flight stick. Calling the pilot over, after learning he was only assigned on ground duty Hera informed Sabine of her co-pilot for the mission. 

“Works for me.” Sabine quipped, and it was settled. 

Back on the Ghost, as preparations were made, Zeb could not focus on refueling the ship, eventually passing the job off to a very unimpressed Chopper so he could go sit on the edge of the landing pad. He found himself at the top of a tall, spindly umbrella tree, looking out onto greenish-blue plains of grasses and shrubs. 

He didn’t realize he’d been digging his claws into the branch until a splinter lodged itself deep into the pad of his finger, eliciting a string of swears from Zeb. 

“Want some help with that?” 

Zeb also did not realize a second being had situated themselves on a nearby perch. Looking over, he found the blonde-haired Jedi known as Luke Skywalker. With a grunt, Zeb offered his hand to the younger man, karabast he could be Ezra’s age really, and grit his teeth as smaller fingers were able to pull the shard of wood out from his skin. A prick of yellowish blood beaded on the tip of the finger, that Zeb just stared at. Compared to all the pain he’d been through for so long, this was nothing, yet he found himself on the verge of tears. 

“We’re going to save them.” Luke said softly, Zeb looking up to meet determined blue eyes. “There’s still good in my father, as there is still good in him.” 

Zeb nodded with a grunt. “Hm. I find it hard to believe he ever turned.” 

“The Emperor is a powerful man who has many tricks. There is a chance he is under a sort of… Influence. Like mind control.” 

Inhaling a shaky breath, Zeb snapped back. “Don’t give me false hope.” 

Luke backed off the topic. “Right. Sorry. But we’re going to succeed and the Emperor will fall.” 

“If I have my way with him he’ll be blasted into a million pieces.” Zeb growled, clenching his fists. The pressure squeezed more blood out of the small cut, falling in droplets down onto his lap. 

* * *

Kallus watched the battle from his place beside the Emperor uninterestedly, staring ahead with a blank expression. The Jedi fought well, but Darth Vader was obviously stronger, keeping one step ahead of the smaller man. 

He’d certainly been interested when the Jedi had stormed the throne room, but the Emperor had foreseen all of this and smiled his wicked smile, so Kallus did not pay it any mind. This would just be another upstart trying, and eventually failing, to claim his place. His rightful place at his father’s side. 

However, the battle suddenly turned when out of no-where, a Lasat dove down from the rafters, distracting Vader just enough so that the Jedi could land a blow. Forcing the Dark Lord into a corner, the duo nearly had him bested, but then the Lasat backed off and began to approach the throne as the Jedi prattled off about not wanting to kill his father, who apparently was also a Jedi. 

It was likely a lie, Jedi were notorious liars, not to be trusted. Enemies of the Empire. Vader really should have finished him off by now, why was he holding back?

Now the Lasat was talking, pulling Kallus’ gaze towards him. Kallus did not catch what he was saying, but he certainly could understand his father’s reply. 

“You have not made a wise choice coming here, Lasat. Just like your Rebel friends, you will die for your mistakes.” 

Kallus realized that the Lasat was staring at him, not the Emperor. Strange. Most people cared much more about the elder Palpatine, the one with power. His father had been trying to awaken the supposed latent Sith powers locked inside of Kallus, but despite his best efforts he was still as attune to the dark side as a rock. Many of the Emperor’s frustrations with this were also taken out on his son, but those outbursts were the same sort of experience as his so-called training, so Kallus assumed it was simply for his own good. 

“-home with me!” the Lasat begged, the words finally registering once Kallus swam his way back out of that intense green gaze. 

“He is home.” the Emperor crooned, raising his hands. 

Kallus instinctively flinched, knowing that that motion represented. He could practically feel the lightning rushing through his veins, fingers spasming at just the thought. 

The Lasat dodged to the side, rolling away towards his companion. 

* * *

“Karabast! He’s really out of it!” Zeb shouted, rushing towards Luke. He wasn’t quite sure what was coming, but by the way Alex reacted he knew it could not be good, so he got the hell out of the way. Not that the confrontation between Luke and Vader was going much better, they were back at it, green saber clashing against red as they circled one another like hungry rancors. 

Bo-rifle drawn, Zeb kept his distance but took a protective stance, keeping behind Luke ready to strike if needed. Luke had told him that this was his fight, to let him have his mission, but Zeb could not help himself from interfering if things got rough. The Jedi was willing to help him, so Zeb felt indebted to return the favor. Either way, something was terribly wrong with Alex. Why was he standing there so willingly? He did not look to be bound to the spot. Maybe Luke’s mind control theory had some truth to it. There was no telling what the Emperor was capable of. 

Then, Vader fell. Luke was poised to make the killing blow. The Emperor cheered him on in his awful venomous sneer, speaking of hatred. Yet, instead of killing the Dark Lord, Luke threw his saber aside, refusing. 

Not good.

* * *

Kallus was fully prepared to watch Darth Vader die. All would go according to his father’s plan. But then, the Jedi didn’t finish the task, speaking of redemption and light. Something was terribly wrong. 

The Emperor rose, fingers spread, and lashed out, engulfing the Jedi in a world of pain Kallus knew far too well. 

Again, the Lasat begged, this time for his assistance. 

Kallus stared ahead, cape sitting on his shoulders like an anchor to the floor, pulling him down. 

Large hands encircled his shoulders, green eyes enticing him to drown in their depths. 

“Do something! Anything!” 

“Kill him.” 

* * *

Zeb realized with horror that the Emperor was referring to him, and that Alex was actually reacting to the command. 

“No way.” Zeb breathed as a hand reached out, mirroring the Emperor’s and Alex’s arm flexed out, just centimeters away from his chest. All of that time hunting and searching, just to be killed by his lover. It was almost ironic. Zeb braced for impact, but it never came. Instead, Alex changed tactic, quickly sweeping the legs out from under the Lasat and slamming him to the ground. 

* * *

Kill him? Why? Kallus pondered his father's order. Yes he was a Rebel, and compatriot of the Jedi, but the Jedi had not killed Vader. Perhaps he should offer the same mercy to this Lasat. 

Kallus stopped himself in this dangerous line of thought. This is a line of thought that would get him executed, or worse. Yet, he could not escape it. The hands on his shoulders sent a heat buzzing through his body, his focus centered still on the most lovely shade of green. 

He could still hear the lightning, feel its aura on his skin. The Jedi was going to die. So should his ally. It was the order of things, wasn’t it? Those who oppose the Emperor must die. 

One of the Emperor's hands began to turn. Kallus rose back to his feet as the Lasat lay temporarily dazed. His father would kill them both to restore peace. That was the order of things. 

...No, it wasn’t. This wasn’t right. Acting more on impulse than anything, Alexsandr moved quickly. 

Throwing himself at the Emperor, Alexsandr directed the attacks into himself, immediately convulsing with the shock but managing to stay in the line of fire. All of the training he’d gone through before could not have prepared him for the sheer intensity of this lethally charged attack. His vision went first, eyes squeezed shut as his world became too-bright sparks. His ears screamed, and he smelt his skin burning on the cellular level. Every sensation was sharp agogy, and then it was over nearly as soon as it started. 

Heavy footsteps, a shout, and then the deafening roar of an explosion. 

Large arms surrounded him, carried him away. Large arms he knew, instinctively, belonged to that Lasat. Deep in his mind, Alexsandr wondered where he’d felt them before…

* * *

Zeb almost had to laugh as he and Luke dragged the now-dead Emperor’s two right hands out of the crumbling battle station. No one paid them any mind as the resident forces began their frantic retreat, and when they reached the lowest level hangar Hera was waiting right where she dropped them off. Zeb went up the ramp first, promising the Jedi to come back down and help him with his significantly heavier father. 

Setting Kallus’ still twitching body (the only sign he was still alive aside from scarily shallow breaths) down on the floor for lack of a better option in the cramped shuttle, Zeb bunched up the black cape to cushion his head. Afraid the layering of necklaces might choke him, Zeb ripped them away in one motion before heading back out. Luke was already at the top of the ramp, looking somber. 

Zeb understood what had happened and offered his arm, Luke collapsing against him with a sob. Hera keyed the ramp shut and took off, not wanting to linger. 

The ride back was rough, and not just because of how the Phantom II was tossed around in the shockwaves of the exploding Death Star. 

“Is that you, Hera? Get out of here!” Wedge’s voice cried over the comm as his X-Wing sped past the slower shuttle. “That thing’s not done blowing, I’ll get Sabine to swing back for a pickup!” 

“Thanks Wedge,” Hera replied stiffly, fully focused on piloting the craft under her care. Zeb appreciated that the others were looking out for them, and as the Phantom was nearly tipped nose-up from an especially strong shock wave, he worried for a second if they’d make it out in one piece. 

In the commotion, Alex’s body started to slide away, a prehensile foot reaching out just in time to keep him from crashing into a wall. Zeb swore under his breath, and Luke unburied his face from where it had been pressed against soft fur. 

“Maybe you should hold him?” The Jedi offered lightly, and after considering the best approach, Zeb scooped Alex’s body up into his arms. He was burning hot all over, and shuddered at the sudden movement. 

“Sorry, love.” Zeb muttered, still in a bit of a state of shock at all that had happened. Did Alex really try to kill him, consider it? There were so many questions, and too few answers, and Zeb felt like he was going to lose his mind. 

Alex was back, that’s all that should matter, right? Yet, Zeb found himself conflicted. There was no guarantee that when the man in his lap woke up, he would be his Alex. With Luke they might be able to figure out just what had changed, but there was no promise of being able to reverse it. 

“Hey, it’s going to be alright.” Luke said, interrupting Zeb’s negative spiral. “He’s safe now, and he saved us both.” 

Right. Zeb had been too far out of it to truly understand what was going on, but Alex had redirected the Emperor’s attacks to his own body, giving Vader the chance to overthrow the man, literally tossing him over the edge of the platform into an exploding core reactor. 

Almost as if he could head them, Alex threw his head back, mouth opening with a gasp for air. 

“Alex? Hey, I’ve got you…” Zeb whispered, stroking the man’s side as he convulsed, letting things take their course. Electricity was a nasty thing to mess with, Zeb learned that the hard way rewiring the guts of the Ghost many times when he got too careless, and Alex had probably experienced enough to power a whole ship. 

With one last groan of protest from the Phantom II, Hera was able to dock into the Ghost when it returned to the blast zone. The hatch was thrown open a few moments later by Hobbie. “Alright, welcome back aboard everyone!” 

The pilot was greeted much less enthusiastically by a few groans from Zeb. “Go open the doors to my quarters, he needs to rest.” 

“Right, sure. I’ll get the medkit too.” Hobbie responded, running off to do as asked. Zeb followed behind him, carrying Alex as carefully as he could to make sure his random movements did not cause him to tumble to the floor. Once Alex was lying down on a soft surface, Zeb felt a bit better about the situation. Hera soon joined him in the small room, standing beside the Lasat with a medpack liberated from Hobbie. 

“Some hydration will probably be the best thing we can do for him.” She offered, already preparing a saline pack. Zeb just nodded, attention fully on Alex. 

He was here, laying in Zeb’s bunk, finally. This is what he had wanted and he finally had it. Yet so much was not right. Alex had been at the Emperor’s side this whole time! Was his son for crying out loud! Nothing made sense anymore and part of Zeb just wanted to collapse. 

The other part wanted to tear away the sinfully tight black bodysuit from Alex’s body and ravage him entirely. 

Meeting somewhere in the middle, as Hera applied the solution to Alex’s forearm, Zeb hooked a claw under the fabric covering his face and pulled down. Zeb was relieved to find Alex looking just as he left him, facial hair perfectly maintained and framing his square features. As Hera finished her treatment, a low sob escaped Zeb’s lips. There was no denying it, this was his Alex. Luke’s words of reassurance resonated in his head, echoing over and over again. It was going to be alright. 

Alex would wake up and they would work through it with the help of their family and friends and maybe they would have to start at square one, but there could not be worse grounds to start on than they already had, right? Zeb chuckled to himself as he recalled their first meeting, the Agent had nearly killed him then too, or certainly would have if there was not Jedi intervention. It was morbidly funny how cyclical things like that could be. 

Yes, it was probably going to be a hard road ahead, but they would make it, and Zeb latched onto this hope with his whole being as he sat on the edge of the bed, stroking the side of Alex’s head. He could not be sure, but he almost felt the human lean into the touch, and Zeb’s heart fluttered in his chest. 

“I’ll leave you two to rest. And I mean both of you,” Hera said as she packed up. “Sabine says there will be a party on the forest moon, where we’ll be docking down. If you guys feel up to it, you’re both welcome.”

“What happened to resting?” Zeb asked, not looking away from Alex. 

“Rest first. But you’ve more than earned some time to enjoy yourselves.” 

Zeb appreciated the woman’s positive thinking, but was fairly certain neither of them would be in a partying mood when Alex woke up. “Thanks, Hera. For everything.” 

“Anything for my family,” She added with a warm smile before leaving the duo alone. 

Zeb sighed softly. It was really happening. After so long, it was still surreal. It was so hard to not get his hopes up. 

Then, Alex was suddenly in the throes of a seizure and everything changed again. 

* * *

“Do you really think this rebel, this Lasat, cares about you? Wants you? You are mistaken, my son.” The Emperor’s voice called out from the darkness. Kallus found himself standing in the middle of it, a metal floor under his feet the only thing he could feel. The air was cold and dry, prickling with static at his limbs. “Your only place is here.”

Kallus knew better than to answer such questions from his father. Instead, he braced himself for the coming onslaught. Daily, he’d been brought before the Emperor and given impossible tasks. 

When he failed to move a pillar with his mind, or open an ancient Sith artifact, the Emperor would initiate his ‘training’. 

Someone of Palpatine blood should surely be sensitive to the force, so the Emperor sought to unlock this potential through the most direct path to the dark side he could concoct. Pain, suffering, loss. 

With each session, each jolt of lightning, each passing day, Kallus felt less and less like himself. Memories became foggy, time stopped moving consistently, his existence became a daze. Life was either a hazy trudge back to his quarters to collapse into restless sleep, or these meetings with the Emperor. It was scraping by to survive, waking up to blurred vision and a feeding tube uncomfortably slotted in place. And then the cycle repeated as he was forced to consciousness by a firm grip on either bare bicep.

Kallus felt himself submitting. The thunk of his knees connecting with the floor, the bow of his head. If he was lower to the ground, he would not split his head open again when he eventually lost control and fell, everything becoming searing-white heat and energy. 

He could hear it coming, the crackle and fizz along with Palpatine’s cackle. But this time, instead of lighting, he was surrounded by a soft purple light. 

Not knowing what else to do, Kallus embraced it. It was warm and soft and it drowned out the horrors around him. There was only this sweet heat, firm and silken and strange. 

It was hope. Alexsandr held onto it like it was the only thing in the universe, it was his universe. He clamped down as if it could save him. It was life. 

* * *

Zeb’s whole body ran cold, a nervous sweat wetting his fur as he could only stare at Alex shaking and moaning. He bit his tongue, a dribble of red blood cascading down his cheek. 

“Alex, you have to breathe!” Zeb cried out, realizing the man was wheezing, barely getting air. Not wanting to hurt him, Zeb hesitated to reach out, but noticing the blood he felt he had no choice. “Breathe, love. You can’t die on me now!”

Gently holding down Alex’s shoulders, the man immediately reacted with a sharp inhale. “That’s it. Now out.” 

Zeb’s eyes began to well with tears as Alex began to stop thrashing, instead curling around Zeb, even pulling on him. Not wanting to fight it, Zeb made his way down onto his side, facing Alex. The man gripped onto his fur, burying his head into the crook of Zeb’s neck. 

“Alex…” Zeb breathed, voice warbling as he openly cried. “I’ve missed you so much Alex.” 

He did not reply, but Zeb could care less, holding Alex close and stroking his fine hair, still as soft as he remembered if a bit shorter. 

They laid like that for hours, uninterrupted, and Zeb drank in every detail. Alex felt thinner, his muscle tone softened, and there was a twitchiness about him. Eventually Zeb released the clasps of the cape, tossing it aside, and rubbed along the path of Alex’s spine. The man was receptive to this, moaning softly, happily, so Zeb repeated the gesture until the pads of his fingers were raw and kept going. He’d do anything for his husband, his love, his Alex. Compared to all they’d been through, this was nothing. 

Some time later, as the moans gave way to snores, Zeb slowed his hand until it was sitting still in the small of Alex’s back. He knew he’d not be able to sleep, but was glad Alex had dozed off, he needed it. As carefully as he could, Zeb shifted Alex onto his back, probably the safest sleeping position for him, and extracted himself away from the man, severely in need of the refresher. 

When he returned from as quick of a trip as he could manage, Alex’s eyes were blinking open. 

* * *

It was all still a blur, but a much more colorful one at that. There was white and green and purple and yellow and it was almost too bright to look at, but Alexsandr could not pry his eyes away from it. Then, it was purple again, and he smiled, stepping towards the color on shaking legs. It caught him when he stumbled, and then there was sound. 

“Are you alright, Alex?” 

Alexsandr’s mind identified this as a question. Questions were bad, so he folded into himself, giving no reply. He waited for his knees to hit the floor, but the sensation never came. The color was holding him aloft. And then it asked him again. 

A repeated question should be answered carefully. Are you alright? the color said. Could he trust it? So far, it had only brought him warmth and comfort. He could speak honestly, there was no pain here, not anymore. 

“No.” It was the truth. Everything hurt. His mouth was dry. He was sore and tired. Alexsandr just wanted to be close again to that softness that was now taking shape. It was alive, a being, a Lasat. It was him, the Lasat from his dreams. His savior. “But I will be. With you.” 

* * *

“Karabast.” 

He was woozy, and definitely out of it, but Alex was back and Zeb was elated. Somehow he still had more tears to shed, and these poured out onto a wide smile. 


	3. Epilogue

“A year later is a bit early to renew vows, no?” Sabine asked, one hand in her lap and the other thrown over Hobbie’s shoulder. Zeb had not gone to that Endor party, but apparently the two of them had really hit it off. Good for her, and he seemed respectable enough. And certainly knew if he wronged her in any way he’d have a furious lasat, maniac droid, the best pilot in the Rebellion, and an ex ISB Agent hunting him down. Not that Sabine could not take care of herself. Or that they were even an item yet. But Zeb could tell what was going on in the way they casually touched and exchanged glances. Hopefully they could get their act together quicker than all the time it had taken him and Alex to come clean about their feelings towards each other the first time around. 

Luckily, the second time wasn’t quite so roundabout or frustrating. It had certainly been a challenge, though. Zeb did not want to just force himself onto Alex, who it became quickly clear was suffering from some very intense amnesia. At first, he was clingy, wanting nothing but to hang off of Zeb for comfort. Which was fine, Zeb cherished those first moments. But then he grew aggressive as only his oldest memories cleared. 

There was a whole week he insisted he was a high ranking ISB Agent and should be treated as such. At first, they’d just tried to talk him down, but after he took the Phantom II hostage trying to run away to an Empire that no longer existed, forcing Wedge and Hobbie to chase him down in X-Wings, the Ghost crew realized this was much more serious. It also didn’t help that as much as Luke had promised his help, Zeb understood that the rest of the Galaxy needed him, so the Spectres were pretty much on their own dealing with something none of them could fully understand. 

It was difficult for Zeb to leave Alex locked up in his quarters during this time, and to think Alex legitimately considered him to be his enemy, but it had to be done. At times it felt hopeless, and Zeb wondered if they were making the right choices, but soon Alex was beginning to become his old self as his memories returned bit by bit. The Alex he’d fallen in love with was beginning to show his face in small moments. Every day there would be a softening to his gaze, a broadening of his smile. Thrown punches turned to gentle embraces, and things were looking up. 

“Zeb, I… I am so sorry, I can’t imagine how all those horrible things I said to you felt to hear again.” Alex admitted during one such hug. Zeb just held him closer. 

“It’s alright. You weren’t yourself.” 

“Still, everything about Lasan… It wasn’t supposed to be a massacre.” 

Zeb was suddenly reminded of Bahryn, and by the tensing of Alex’s muscles, Zeb figured the man was also remembering that encounter. “I know, Alex. It’s fine. And, beside’s, there’s still Lira San.” 

“Lira San? You mean…” 

Zeb nodded. “Yeah, the ancestral homeland. It still exists. I found it, and there is a whole thriving Lasat inhabited system there.” 

“Zeb, I…” Alex stammered, holding tighter to Zeb. “Thank you for telling me. That is... good to hear.” 

“It’s ok if it makes you feel better too. I know you regret what happened, and if you could go back to change things you would. What matters is that you’re with me now, wanting to be here.”

The tension in Alex seemed to melt away all at once, and he pulled back from the hug, staring up at Zeb for a second before rising to his toes, planting a quick kiss to a furred cheek. Zeb just stared back, heat rushing to his face. 

“Was that alright?” Alex asked, turning bright red, making the freckles dotting his cheeks more apparent. In response, Zeb bowed his head, gently kissing Alex’s forehead. 

Some time later, now months after his homecoming, Alex came to Zeb late at night, climbing down from the top bunk and gently nudging the Lasat awake. 

“Hey, Alex, what’s up?” Zeb hummed, not at all upset to be woken up by such a handsome face. 

Immediately, the human blushed, flustered before even getting the words out. Zeb was worried he’d retreat and reached out with a calming hand, taking Alex’s into his own. “I was wondering if it would be alright if I… we… uhh.” Alex gestured to the lower bunk where Zeb was reclined as he spoke, “If I could join you?” 

Zeb nearly reached out and circled Alex’s waist then with his hands, pulling him down on top of him. But he restrained himself, instead scooting over towards the wall on the narrow bunk. “Of course.” 

Alex stiffly lay on his back beside the Lasat, unknowingly crunching him up against the cold wall, but Zeb did not care one bit. Alex wanted to actually sleep with him? In the same bed? It had taken a month for him to want Zeb in the same room at night after those first weeks of fuzzy embraces and not much more. And now he wanted this? Zeb didn’t sleep that night, watching his beloved sleep peacefully beside him. The next night they held hands, and a week later were spooning proper. 

Six months after his return, nine after the wedding, Alex said those words again that Zeb had been wanting to hear for so long from his husband. 

“I love you.” 

Zeb planted a chaste kiss to the man’s lips, Alex wrapping his arms around the Lasat to hold him close. “Oh, Alex, I love you too.” 

So, on their year anniversary, the pair decided they wanted a do-over. A wedding and honeymoon with no Imperial threat, done out in the open, with space for everyone they loved. Looking over the cherished mural in their quarters, Alex asked if Zeb still had the ornate robes. “Nah, had to sell ‘em for supplies. But we’ll get better ones.” 

Zeb picked Alex up, twirling him around before pulling him into a tight hug. “It will be perfect, my love.” 

“Oh I know it will be, you’ll be there.” 

“You bet your ass I will be.” Setting Alex back down, Zeb laughed heartily. “Nothing in the galaxy will keep me away from you again.” 

Alex pondered the picture again. “You know, we’ll have to get something really special to wear.” 

Zeb cocked his head, not quite following Alex’s line of thought. “Why’s that?” 

Alex smirked. “You’re marrying royalty, Mr. Orrelios-Kallus-Palpatine.” 

Zeb just rolled his eyes, “Oh, don’t you start with that, you wannabe-Sith Lord. Besides, the Empire’s gone. Only thing you're the heir to is ash and space junk.” 

Alex took the joke in stride, Zeb knowing his partner was comfortable kidding about this stuff with him now. “Sure, but you do have to admit that for a while there you were a Prince.” 

“Prince of Krayt spit.” 

The duo tumbled down onto the bed, grinning and gazing into each other’s eyes. “Thank you.” Alex said, suddenly somber. 

“Eh, yer welcome?” Zeb said, again confused by his husband. 

Alex took Zeb’s hand into his own, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Zeb followed suit, wrapping his other arm around Alex’s shoulders. “What I mean is, I’m not sure I ever thanked you properly for never giving up on me. From what I’ve heard the others say,” Zeb went to interject but Alex kept talking, “I was quite the basket case for a while there. And for three months I was again your enemy, something I promised would never happen. But you didn’t stop looking for the good in me.” 

“I knew it was there, just needed a little coaxing is all. I’m an expert at it now now, if I say so myself.” 

Alex nuzzled in closer to Zeb. “That you are. You are my light, Zeb.” 

Zeb was speechless as he pulled Alex flush against him, purring softly. His Alex was fully, truly, back, and the future was bright. If he was Alex’s light, then Alex was his compass, and he was ready to forge a path ahead with his beloved at his side. 


End file.
